


A Trevelyan by Any Other Name

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: The Other Regan [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regan wants a nickname.  What she ends up with is ... appropriate.  And then there's the awkward flirting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trevelyan by Any Other Name

“Sparkles?”

“Too close to what you call Dorian. It’d be way too confusing”

“Red?”

“That’s what Bull calls Leliana. Besides, my hair’s not really red.”

“Chief?”

Regan made a face. “If I could get Bull to stop calling me ‘Boss’, I would. That’s not any better.”

“Why do you want me to give you a nickname anyway?” Varric rubbed his forehead and tried to think. Most of their companions were easy to assign a nickname. It came naturally after very little time spent with them. But for some reason, he could not settle on one for her. Giving Regan Trevelyan a nickname was, somehow, becoming as difficult as coming up with a nickname for Hawke had been. At least Hawke’s last name was short enough to almost be one anyway. ‘Trevelyan’ was a mouthful for anyone, and that was so not the point of nicknames.

“Starting to feel left out,” she replied with a sad smile. She’d heard Varric call every one of their companions by some sort of nickname since before leaving Haven. Some fit the person with an accuracy that had surprised her: Dorian was ‘Sparkler’, Vivienne became the ‘Iron Lady’; he called Cassandra ‘Seeker’, Blackwall had earned the name ‘Hero’, and Cole was ‘Kid’. Others were the exact opposite, and that’s what made them right: The Iron Bull became ‘Tiny’ and Solas was “Chuckles”. The only one she couldn’t quite figure out was why he called Sera ‘Buttercup’. He’d even given the advisors nicknames. She loved hearing him refer to Josephine as ‘Ruffles’, thanks to the overt poofiness of her clothes. Cullen had somehow earned the nickname ‘Curly’. Varric had explained that when he’d met their Commander in Kirkwall, his hair was far more unruly than it currently presented itself. And Leliana was ‘Nightingale’. “Everyone calls me ‘Herald’ or ‘Inquisitor’. I just … “ She shrugged, not really sure what she ‘just’. 

“Bright Eyes?”

“Why in the Maker’s name would that be a fitting nickname?” she asked, confused. “My eyes are this weird muddy green color. There’s nothing bright about them.” She and her twin, Tristan, were the only children who had her father’s eyes. The others had their mother’s brilliantly green eyes. Regan, while she had inherited many things from her mother, had eyes that shifted from brown to muddy green according to her mood, sparking bright green only when she was at her most furious.

“I’ve got news for you, Trevelyan,” Varric laughed, holding up a small shiny plate. “Your eyes are most certainly not muddy, or green. They haven’t been for as long as I’ve known you.”

She looked carefully at her reflection and almost screamed. Instead of the muddy color she remembered, she saw a pair of violet eyes staring back at her. “Holy … Andraste’s balls! How did that …? I mean, what happened to my …? You said they’ve been this color since we met?” It had to have something to do with falling from the Breach, being in the Fade, getting zapped there by whatever ritual she’d stumbled upon at the Conclave. It was stupid, but she was upset. She’d liked having her father’s eye color. It had been one small connection only she and Tristan shared with him. This also meant she and her twin were no longer identical.

He noticed she looked upset. He didn’t know why; it was just eye color. But that was a pretty good indication that he needed to keep searching for a nickname. He was about to say something when she somehow fell out of her chair. No, that wasn’t entirely accurate. She didn’t exactly fall. Somehow, she managed to tilt her chair far enough backwards that she, and it, tumbled to the ground with an undignified thunk. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, really. It was an incredibly awkward way to land, and nothing she had been doing prior should have put her that far back, but there it was. As he moved around the table to check on her, he grinned. “Grace. That’s it. I’m just calling you ‘Grace’ from here on out.”

“That works,” Regan groaned, rubbing the back of her head as she tried to get up. She’d only intended on moving her chair back so she could go somewhere to take a better look at her eyes. She needed to see if her father was still in there, somewhere. But she’d been too forceful, shoving the chair back harder than intended. And she’d paid for it. “There’s going to be a bump there,” she winced, her eyes momentarily forgotten. She struggled to her feet and wished she could play it off like she meant for all that to happen, but there was no excuse she could think of that would work. “I’m … going to go this way now.”

“Talk to you later, Grace,” Varric laughed, shaking his head. 

She made her way to the courtyard, intending to head toward the stables. Master Dennett had acquired a new mount upon their arrival and she wanted to see how all the animals were acclimating to the new surroundings. And, honestly, she didn’t want to think about her eyes right then. She reached the bottom of the steps and was just about to head that way when she heard a familiar voice and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with Cullen for any real length of time since the assault on Haven. After she had finally recovered, the entire group’s focus needed to be on making the journey to Skyhold; it was fortunate that Solas had known of the keep. Everyone was pulled in different directions, each helping keep the civilians, soldiers, children motivated, warm, and fed. Then, when they’d reached their destination, everyone had to pitch in and get the place at least livable. She hadn’t seen anyone other than Josephine and Varric in days. Even Cole, who had the ability to seemingly show up whenever she needed someone to talk to, had been kept busy.

“Send men to scout the area,” Cullen ordered, pointing to an area on the map one of his troops carried as they headed for his makeshift table. “We need to know what’s out there.”

“Yes sir.” Several men and women saluted and headed out the gate. They would be gone for several weeks, sending reports back as often as possible. 

Another of the runners strode past her as she started toward him. “Commander, soldiers have all been assigned temporary quarters.”

“Very good.” Cullen looked down at the piles of parchment in front of him. He was surprised Leliana and Josephine had been able to save as many reports during the evacuation as they had. “I’ll need an update on the armory as well.” He expected the man to realize he’d been dismissed. There was much to be done, and Cullen was almost certain he’d caught a glimpse of the newly minted Inquisitor watching him. He almost smiled and called her name when he realized the runner hadn’t left yet. “Now, James!” he growled, shaking his head. As the man finally scurried away, Cullen met her eyes and didn’t bother fighting a relieved smile. “We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an archdemon … or whatever that thing was.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to explain the unexplainable. Was it because she had risked her life to allow them all to escape the devastation? He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck without realizing it. “With some warning, we might have …”

“It’s all right, Commander,” she interrupted gently. “I can’t think of anything that would have protected Haven from that … thing.”

“If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw,” he went on, motioning for her to examine the plans in front of him. “I wouldn’t want to. We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway. Guard rotations are established.” He tried to remain focused, businesslike. He tried to ignore the soft hint of peppermint and roses that filled his senses as she stood next to him, watching his hands against the parchment. “We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here.”

“How many were lost?” she asked quietly, wishing the answer could be none. She knew they had lost people – mostly Cullen’s soldiers, in the battle. She didn’t know how many refugees and civilians had made it, but even one lost life felt like too much.

“Most of our people made it,” he replied quietly, unhappy that any were left behind. “It could have been much worse.” He risked a look over at her, momentarily relieved that she was looking down, not at him. He took a moment to just look at her without getting lost in those eyes again, taking in her profile. “Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.” He had been one of the first to agree when Cassandra had made the suggestion. There was no one he would rather follow.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan.” Regan tried out the title, shaking her head. One title was enough, wasn’t it? “I wasn’t looking for another title. It sounds so … odd, pretentious maybe, don’t you think?” ‘My Lady’ and ‘Herald of Andraste’ were bad enough, but now she was saddled with ‘Inquisitor’ as well? When would it stop? Why couldn’t she just be Regan?

“Not at all,” Cullen replied with a smile, watching as she brushed a stray bit of hair from her eyes. He could feel his ears grow warm as she looked back at him, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Is that the official response?” She rested her weight on her left foot, right hand on her hip. 

It was almost difficult to tell if she was upset, but he thought he’d learned enough of her cues to know better. He chuckled softly, looking away for a moment. “I suppose it is, but it’s the truth.” He turned back to look at her again and wished there were fewer people about. There were things he wanted to say, to ask … but he didn’t want an audience, in case he made a bigger fool of himself. “We needed a leader, and you’ve more than proven yourself.”

“I … thank you, Cullen,” she replied, not noticing the slip of familiarity as she reached up to tuck hair that wasn’t there behind her ear nervously. She hadn’t been ready for the compliment, wasn’t sure she deserved it. Plus, this was the first real time she’d had to speak with him since everything had happened. They’d all been pulled in so many directions since the escape. “Our escape from Haven, It was close.” She paused, fighting the urge to touch him. There were too many people, she wasn’t sure if he’d welcome it, she wasn’t sure of anything. “I’m relieved that you ….” She cleared her throat, looking away. “That so many made it out.”

He hadn’t heard her call him by name since that night, coming back from the docks. He still didn’t know why it sent chills down his spine, but he loved the way her lips moved when she said it. “As am I,” he almost whispered, his voice coming out in a gravelly tone he’d never heard himself use before. He looked away, trying to hide the heat he felt rising along his neck and cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck and struggled to find words as she turned from him, apparently thinking the conversation had come to an awkward end. “You stayed behind,” he said quietly, finally turning back to her. He was glad to see she’d stopped, turned back to face him. “You could have ….” Maker, he didn’t want to think about that again. He could have lost her even before he had a chance to sort out what was going on in his head. He moved forward, close enough to rest a hand on her shoulder. How he wanted to touch her face, run his fingers along her cheek, her lips. “I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.” He would move the stars themselves to keep her safe. 

“You could have, too,” she pointed out softly, willing her nerves to stop going so crazy. “I don’t think I could have –“

“Inquisitor, message for you, ma’am.” The runner Leliana had chosen as Regan’s personal messenger practically skidded to a halt just before running into both Regan and Cullen. She bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Finally, not knowing she interrupted … something … she stood. “That mage, ma’am, the … good looking one. He’s asking for you. He’s up in the … in the library, I guess it is.”

Regan said a silent thank you to whatever had created the distraction. She wasn’t sure what she had been about to say, but she was sure it would have been deathly embarrassing and ten shades of awkward. That was all she could seem to manage around this man. She noticed the flush on the runner’s cheeks, realizing that she knew this one and smiled. Surely it wasn’t totally from the rush to find her. “He kissed your hand, didn’t he, Margot?” 

“Aye, ma’am,” Margot blushed, ducking her head. “I couldn’t … I just ….” She stammered helplessly for a moment before shaking her head. She had mentioned her fascination with the new mage to the Inquisitor before; occasionally the pair of women would chat almost like sisters as they hiked toward Skyhold. She knew the younger woman had little experience with noble men, Tevinter or otherwise. 

“I understand completely,” Regan comforted, shyly looking over at Cullen for a second before returning her focus to the embarrassed runner. “He delights in flustering women with overt chivalry. I think he’s decided that our southern men are sadly lacking when it comes to such things and it is his job to remind us southern women what we are missing.” She wasn’t sure she agreed, completely. Yes, several men she knew were more boorish than civilized, but there were some who seemed to be making an effort. “He may be right, sadly. I’ve only met one or two men that would even think to offer a lady their coat.”

Taking a breath, she sighed. “You’ve met more than I, then, ma’am. My foolishness aside, he wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience, ma’am.” She turned to Cullen and nodded, “Commander.” Then, she was off to do Maker knew what.

“I should go see what he wants,” Regan murmured, ducking her head, but still watching him out of the corner of her eye. She needed to get somewhere to collect her thoughts, if nothing else. Simply being around this man for too long made it difficult to think of anything but this pull she felt. “I will … speak with you later, Cullen … Commander.”

“I … look forward to it, Inquisitor,” Cullen nodded, silently cursing the runner’s interruption. He was curious about what she’d been saying. She couldn’t what, he wondered. And then there was that comment about civilized southerners. She didn’t think he was uncivilized, did she? No, she had something about someone offering his coat, and he had done that, he was certain. But was it enough? Did she still think him a barbarian? But, did it even matter - she had her duties, and he had his. It was silly, thinking they might have time for anything else, wasn’t it? It was foolish to think there might be a chance for anything further. And then she was gone, again – up the steps and out of sight. “Maker’s breath,” he sighed, shaking his head. What was she doing to him? With a faint smile, he returned his attention to the paperwork at hand. He needed something to focus on that didn’t have legs, or lips, or eyes, or … anything belonging to her.


End file.
